When I needed her most, she was right on time
by omelettethemusical
Summary: Nearly ten years after Alexander's death, Eliza learns that Angelica is dying. How will she go on alone?


_March_ 1814

Philip Schuyler Church raced up the streets of New York City to the home of his widowed aunt Eliza Hamilton. His father had told him to fetch her, but Philip feared that his mother might die while he was gone. It was this fear that pushed him to run as fast as he could, for the sooner he reached Eliza's house, the sooner he could return home.

Panting, Philip reached the top of the stairs and banged on the door as hard as he could, not caring if the neighbors heard him. Within seconds, Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton, dark-eyed and silver-haired, clad head to toe in black, but still stately and beautiful, opened the door.

"Philip?" It seemed to pain her to say the name. His cousin had been four years younger than himself and also named after her father, who had died just months after her husband. It was twelve years ago that he had been killed in a duel, at the age of nineteen. He knew that Aunt Eliza loved him - he had been her husband's aide-de-camp, after all - but he was still the one who should have died instead. "What is it?"

"It's Mom," he said. Having been raised in London, he had his father's English accent, but called his mother Mom because she was American. "She's very ill. She - she wants to see you."

"Ill?" Eliza repeated, looking stunned. "Is she going to make it?"

"I don't think so." Philip shook his head sadly. "Let's hurry. She may have only hours."

"Oh no," said Eliza. She followed him down the stairs and, with all the speed that she could muster while retaining the dignity befitting a woman of her age and stature, flagged down a carriage. Philip knew that she must still feel some guilt about not being there for her other sister, Peggy, who had died a few months before her son from a much more prolonged illness. It was, in fact, Alexander who had written to inform her of Peggy's death.

As they reached the Church home, Eliza got out her purse to pay the cab driver, but Philip stopped her. "Let me," he said. He knew that her husband had left her family in debt when he died, and their financial situation hadn't improved much since then; she was now supported by her eldest sons and by donations which had slowed to a trickle as her husband's image faded from the public memory. Philip's father, on the other hand, was both rich and very much alive.

"Thank you," said Eliza softly. She didn't seem to have the energy to protest. Philip paid the driver, and they both stepped out of the carriage and rushed inside.

John Barker Church was waiting for them at the door, his face pale with worry. Once a handsome man, he was now in late middle age and his gray hair was streaked with white. He sighed with relief when his son and sister-in-law came in.

"Is she still alive?" Eliza and Philip asked at the same time.

"Yes," said John, "but she's very weak. The doctor's gone, he says he's done all he can do. I've sent for a minister."

"Eliza," Angelica's voice came softly from the bedroom. "You made it."

"I'm here, Angelica," Eliza said, running into Angelica's chamber and kneeling down by her bed. Her stomach lurched as she saw the state her sister was in. It was the same way Philip and Alexander had looked right before they died. Leeches, she thought. She's lost a lot of blood.

"It's such a comfort to see you," Angelica said, stroking Eliza's hair.

"Don't talk," Eliza said, pulling another blanket over Angelica's chest. "Save your strength and - "

"Stay alive, I know," Angelica said, smiling weakly. "But there's no chance of that now, so I might as well say everything that's on my mind."

"What about Philip? And John?"

"I've already talked to them," Angelica said. "But there are things one can only say to a sister. I just have one request of you."

"Anything," Eliza said.

"Open your locket."

Startled, Eliza's hands flew to the locket she always wore around her neck, ever since Alexander died. It contained a fragment of a letter he had written to her, one of the few she didn't burn. She supposed some part of her had always known how Angelica felt about Alexander, but now that she was once again being asked to share him… But she had promised, so she opened her locket and placed it in Angelica's lap.

"Thank you," Angelica said, fondling the piece of parchment. She didn't seem to be reading it - she wasn't close enough, and Eliza wasn't sure she would be able to read it even if she was. Maybe she didn't want to - it was, after all, addressed to Eliza. She didn't want Alexander's words - she just wanted to hold something that his hand, his pen had touched.

"I'll be with him soon," she said softly, still looking at the paper. "I'll tell him everything you've done for him. And Philip, and Peggy, and Mom and Dad - "

Eliza tried to speak, but her throat was choked up with tears. Angelica clutched her hands. Her own hands were clammy and cold.

"I always knew that it was you who would go on," Angelica said. "You always knew how to take your time. You and Alexander - you needed each other. I have no regrets. Take your time, Eliza. I'll see you on the other side."

Angelica gasped, and Eliza called Philip and John into the room. She lingered for a few more minutes, but did not speak again. When she closed her eyes, John kissed her forehead and grasped her hand tightly, as if he would never let go. The minister was too late.

"What's this?" Philip said finally, picking up the locket. "Aunt Eliza - is this yours?"

"Oh - yes," said Eliza, blushing. She closed the locket, making sure that the parchment was completely inside, and put it back on.

* * *

"I should go," said Eliza, sitting in the drawing room as they waited for the undertaker to arrive. "I'll let you mourn in peace."

"No, stay as long as you wish," said John. "You shouldn't have to go through this alone."

"Nor should you," Eliza said.

"I have my children."

"Your children are grown. They have their own families."

John stared at her for a moment, then looked away. "Did - did she ever - " his voice broke off, and he shook his head.

"Did she ever what?" Eliza asked.

"No, I mustn't say that. I mustn't even think it. How terribly improper of me. I shouldn't suppose you would even know."

"She loved you," Eliza assured him.

"Did she?" His eyes were brimming with tears. "You must know what it's like, to wonder…"

"I never doubted that my husband loved me," Eliza said firmly. "But I think some people… can love more than one person at a time."

"Not me," said John. "For me, it was always her. But I was not the only man who was helpless against her charms."

Eliza nodded. "I understand. There's always a price to pay for winning."

"I didn't deserve her," John whispered. "I lied to her, and stole her away from her family, and even when she found out the truth she forgave me. This blasted illness that took her - it should have taken me instead." He scoffed. "I should have shot Aaron Burr when I had the chance."

"It's not about what you deserve," said Eliza. "I can't speak for Angelica, but I always wanted an older brother, and I can't imagine a better one. Alexander loved you. Even Daddy loved you, eventually."

"Once he found out I was rich," John said wryly.

They sat in silence for a while. Finally Eliza asked, "So what will you do now?"

John sighed. "Go back to England, I suppose. Live out the rest of my days there. I shan't marry again, that much is certain." He looked up at her in acknowledgement of her nearly ten years of widowhood.

"Well, I'll miss you," said Eliza. "Don't forget to write."

He smiled. "I'll hold you to that, Mrs. Hamilton."

* * *

In her will, Angelica had asked to be buried in Trinity Churchyard, where Alexander and Philip were. They stood there now, the early spring sun warming the air as the oldest Schuyler sister was laid to rest.

The funeral was crowded, and for everyone who was there in body, many more were there in spirit. Jefferson and Lafayette had both sent condolence letters, which couldn't have done anything for John's ego. He had never really felt at home in America, and Eliza suspected that part of him was relieved that he could go back to England without worrying that he was separating his wife from the people she loved.

After everyone left, Eliza stayed to lay flowers on the graves of her husband and oldest son. She soaked up the quiet and the sound of birds chirping.

"Alexander," she whispered, staring up at the sky, "I give you and Angelica permission to do whatever you want while you wait for me."

* * *

 **A/N: I couldn't find anything about how Angelica died, so I just imagined it was a short illness. Also John Barker Church is awesome.**


End file.
